


Blood on Snow

by Chaos_Valkyrie



Series: 1character Challenge Series [3]
Category: Rurouni Kenshin
Genre: Gen, Introspection, mentions of other canon characters - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-23
Updated: 2016-05-23
Packaged: 2018-06-10 03:32:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,139
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6938029
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chaos_Valkyrie/pseuds/Chaos_Valkyrie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>50 Insights into the world of Enishi Yukishiro.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Blood on Snow

**Author's Note:**

> As is typical of my way of writing these, this will be a huge mixture of one-sentence snapshots covering Enishi’s life – from childhood before Tomoe’s death all the way to the end of Jinchu arc. And no, it won’t be in chronological order. If you know the Jinchu arc well, you should be able to figure them out.

Snow.  
Enishi’s tortured mind continuously replays three impressions from the worst day of his life: the scent of white plum blossoms, an arc of blood, and the freshly tainted snow.

Child.  
He refuses to look down at the boy so like himself, too afraid, too jealous to see what his life might have been had his sister never died.

Brick.  
Brow quirking in surprise, Enishi glances briefly at Gein before returning his gaze to their massive ‘secret’ hideout.

Judgment.  
The government lauded him a hero, the heavens refused retribution, and hence Enishi decided to take Battosai’s punishment into his own hands.

Powder.  
In dealing with guns and munitions – the great ‘advancement’ in war – he found distasteful the crude smear of oil on parts and the harsh scent of gunpowder igniting in the chamber.

Grim.  
Snarling painfully, he grimaces as he sinks his teeth into the corpse’s flesh, reminding himself that he must do this to live, to have his Jinchu.

Trap.  
He can hardly keep from smiling as he walks towards his sister’s new ‘home’, for soon Tomoe’s revenge will be complete and they can go back to the happiness they knew before Akira’s death.

Star.  
She guides him, ever and always, shining brightly in his mind no matter how dark the road has become.

Possession.  
Revenge fills him, thirsts within him, and the demon that it has become will not let him rest until this Jinchu is complete.

Bandage.  
A grunt of pain escapes as he wraps his torso, but still he smiles, knowing that Battosai’s latest injuries cannot be healed with salve and linen alone.

Pearl.  
He loved when she would tuck him in at night, his sleepy mind lingering over white plums and his sister’s pale, flawless face.

Glass.  
Two fingers adjust the colored spectacles and the world about him regains its violet hue – perfect for his continued mourning.

Classified.  
They questioned, they spied, but none of his false comrades were able to deduce what wildcard Enishi and Gein had hidden in the basement.

Buttons.  
Finally standing before Battosai, Enishi’s fingers fumble across his cloak’s fastenings in his excitement. 

Closet.  
“What to wear, what to wear,” he ponders aloud, studying the choices before him, wanting to be perfect for his date with Jinchu.

Ash.  
Buildings tumble, fire surrounds him, but all he sees is his most hated adversary standing before him in the midst of this bloodshed.

Definition.  
Every action revolves around one smile, hidden deep in his mind.

Staircase.  
A jaunty tune leaves his lips as he ascends the basement stairs – the preparations are almost complete, and the key figure in his revenge will soon be ready.

Nail.  
Like the nail that gets hammered down, Battosai stood out too much to hide his presence from Enishi, even when traveling as a ‘harmless’ wanderer.

Prey.  
Kaoru watches him, constantly, and knowing this Enishi can’t help prodding her fear to see what reaction it will produce.

Backwards.  
As Kaoru throws herself in front of Heishin, his mind instantly regresses fourteen years, and in one instant, he understands why his sister died to save Battosai.

Trouble.  
The bokken falls, her whole body going limp, knowing implicitly that any resistance against him and the chloroform in his hand is futile.

Little.  
Tearing through the underbrush, tears of anger and sorrow flow as he vows to return one day to exact his revenge.

Collar.  
For now, he’ll allow the mafia to control him; but when Jinchu dawns, the white tiger will break free.

Circle.  
Enishi laughed hollowly at the irony of how everything began and ended with a woman loving Battosai.

Hands.  
Back against the dirty wall, he clutches a tattered book with one hand, and staring blankly at the other, he wonders how everything fell from his grasp so easily.

Freedom.  
So fucking tired, but still he managed to keep his head and the diary above water as his body mechanically swam towards shore.

Last.  
Standing in his balloon, high above his comrades, Enishi smirks as he patiently waits for Battosai to defeat them before he takes his turn. 

Scab.  
“Little jerk,” Enishi hears Akira-baka mutter angrily, rubbing the newest teeth marks on his hand.

Crown.  
The flowers stand, so delicately adorning the grave of his sister, that he almost hesitates before grinding them beneath his boot.

Time.  
Years pass in a bloody haze, barely noticeable, for his life had stopped on that one, snow-covered day.

Rice.  
The grains crunch between his teeth, and Enishi reminds himself (again) that Kaoru wasn’t intentionally trying to kill him.

Worn.  
Enishi sighs as he lays there, a child alone and dying in Shanghai, wondering if this is where his revenge will fail.

Paint.  
Not for the first time, he wonders: if he colored his hair, would everyone stop mistaking him for an old man?

Ache.  
“Why… what can I do to make you smile once again?” he screams to the empty room.

Cherry.  
The blossoms drift about him like crimson snow, and he shuts his eyes in horror against the memories that threaten to surface.

Library.  
Enishi held two Bibles dear: a dog-eared treatise on watojutsu (his strength), and an equally worn diary (his truth).

Win.  
He holds the limp form almost tenderly, smirking as he leaves the shelter of the dojo for the docks.

Loss.  
“The one I wanted to protect was… the one I really wanted to protect was…” 

Fold.  
The body crumbles into itself, tumbling to the ground before him; he is one step closer to achieving Jinchu.

Music.  
Heart beating a frantic staccato, he once again jerks awake, the image of blood on snow haunting his dreams.

Bell.  
He sets down the food gently, rings the gong, and says a prayer to Tomoe (and Tomoe alone) for continued strength.

Sleep.  
Tossing, turning, twitching, scheming, hating; he hasn’t had a peaceful night’s sleep in eleven years.

Contact.  
As they gave him the details of his mission, he inwardly beamed; ‘Soon, sister, I will see you and your revenge will be complete.’

Electricity.  
Enishi’s eyes bore into the Battosai’s, sparks flying as they momentarily measure the other’s worth.

Milk.  
The liquid is drugged and vile tasting, but he forces it down anyway, earning a soft smile from his new protectors in Shanghai that he cannot return.

Wild.  
Victory recedes as the pain in his ear magnifies, and he desperately, wildly screams as his final attack barely connects.

Expectation.  
“Almost, sister, almost,” he mutters, hair flying in the breeze as he watches the ocean pass steadily below him, returning him to his homeland for the first time in ten years.

Mechanism.  
In his torment, he barely hears the workings of the gun – all he sees is Battosai fall helpless before him.

Finale.  
Funny how everything seemed to begin with her death; and now it ended with the book of her life.


End file.
